Call Me Placido
by 4thFromTheFurnace
Summary: It was only another day...another day for his brain to seriously misfunction due to...her.  Placido x "comrade".  Writing Challenge Theme #2


**A bit of a look into the character of the most feisty of the three Emperors of Yliaster and the memories of the one he loved. Heavy Spoilers.**

**Set approximately somewhere in between the construction of Placido's Diablo (robot army) and the merge into Aporia.**

**Theme #: 2 (One-Shot Writing Challenge)**

**I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh 5D's.**

Why did it hurt so bad? Why was the pain almost unbearable again? He hadn't felt this in years, why now? Why had the wounds burst open raw, exploding the dust away and allowing the gnawing dusty air back inside? Why?

Why was the picture of her face so vivid in his mind? It was worse than a photograph, he could see her knowing smile again, could hear her voice.

_"You're staring at me again, Aporia."_

The sound ground at his nerves worse than anything else could. This didn't make sense. Not only had he tried to banish that voice from his mind completely, here it was crooning a name that was no longer his. It wrenched at his insides. It tore at his lungs and his muscle and his arteries, the painful ripping throbbing of his heart pumping blood through his vessels. It had been so long. Why now?

It had been something that came naturally. They had rarely had to talk about it. Somehow, they both understood. It was such a tragic thing. It was their last battle against the darkness with the little they had left. They were comrades. Sometimes, he secretly wished he had talked about it more.

Did she really understand? Was it just a foolish dream? If so, why wouldn't the ghost of her memory just leave him alone? He had a mission to accomplish. He had the power to change history. The idea was so painful, in a way. Bittersweet.

He could change history in order to wipe out the sin and unrighteousness that plagued the planet and maybe be able to save her. But was it enough? Would she even be born if it was that way? Or would the memory of her exist in his mind and his mind alone? Even if she would be born, they would never meet. And even if they did, the way they met, those feelings…would never be realized except within his own mind.

It was hopeless.

The embodiment of despair of losing someone he loved. That was what he was called.

Useless.

Just because he was called that didn't mean it would do any good to bring her back. That was the problem. It was the reason that he alone went against the plans of his counterparts.

See, if they did change the future, then Lucciano, the embodiment of despair from losing people who loved him, would still have a family; and Jose, the embodiment of despair of having no one else to love, would have people there for him again.

It was only him. He was the only one that would suffer from all this. There was absolutely no way that he could be with her that way ever again. If they changed the future, then the war would never happen. But, that was how he met her.

They were both such amateurs at the beginning. He was familiar with loss but learning to fight back was a little new to him at the time. Yet he absorbed it.

He was rash and reckless, willing to take way too many chances. Well…even more so than he was now. She was the only thing that could tame him and his insatiable need for adventure and dangerous situations. She kept him in check. That's why the resistance partnered them together in the first place.

However, there was a small detail that the resistance forgot to include in the equation.

The young soldier could barely keep his eyes off her.

He was completely unaware of it at first, until she would catch him and roll her eyes as he would give an overdramatic huff, accompanied by crossed arms and a sour expression strangely resembling a pout.

Eventually, neither cared anymore, save for when she decided to make him the object of her amusement.

Sometimes, he would catch himself staring at her porcelain face, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. To feel the warmth of her skin and her breath on his face.

Of course, the thoughts never escaped the confines of his mind. For some reason, he was so content just to be with her, and at least until the fighting was over, it would stay that way.

Having a defined relationship in the middle of war would only complicate things and make everything more painful. Feelings were such nasty little things, sometimes.

Though he could have dealt with them if that's all they were.

She was so smart, and coy, with the sweet yet slightly sadistic smirk on her face all the time. That look made it totally obvious when she was going to tease him. He had learned to avoid her when she had that look.

She was so talented, he was confident that she could probably hit the broadside of a barn from four hundred yards away. Quite honestly, she was the one who taught him how to shoot; and quite honestly, he found himself not really paying attention to what she was teaching in favor of something he found much more interesting.

Her dark eyes swirled when she talked about weapons, the excitement and concentration evident on her face as her dark hair brushed against her cheek, her ponytail waving slightly in the wind.

She had such compassion, reliability, and determination. It was amazing and beautiful, just to watch her. She always tried to put up a strong front to keep up the air of a good soldier and keep everyone else out, but her soft heart showed through anyway. She was so sincere, almost to the point of brutal at times. The most beautiful thing about her, however, was the part she tried the hardest to hide away, whether or not she was aware of it.

Every once in a while she'd slip and start talking about what she was going to do after the war was over. As soon as she'd realize she'd slipped into a daydream she would give a soldier's firm but honest apology and become extremely quiet afterwards.

After working with her in the resistance for over two years, he eventually realized. It wasn't just feelings. He was in love with her.

They didn't need to talk too much anymore, they both knew what each other was thinking concerning their work. He had to admit, those two years really matured him fast. Sometimes, much faster than he would have liked.

Those pesky feelings just wouldn't go away.

One time, they were in the middle of battling a couple of drones, just the two of them, and without any warning, those words came flowing from his mouth like smooth, melted butter. Which words? There were…three of them. Yeah, THOSE words.

He could distinctly remember her reaction. She screamed at him. It pained him to think about, especially now, but it was something very bittersweet. He would always remember exactly what she said too.

"_Aporia, you second-rate ignoramus! What on God's green Earth made you think that NOW was a good time to say such ridiculously idiotic things?"_

Even now, every now and then it would bring a very low, quiet chuckle to his lips when no one was around. She was flustered.

After the battle, it wasn't until late afternoon on the way home that they spoke again. She held her arms around herself slightly, her gaze intent on the ground. Watching her for a few minutes, he took off his vest and wrapped it around her shoulders without a word. Finally, she spoke up, asking him about what he said only a couple hours before.

He confirmed it only by a grunt and barely a nod before his own eyes darted away from her. He knew what she was going to say. She was scared.

It was selfish of him…to think to ask her to put herself, her training, and her emotional wellbeing on the line for him. Now, in a way, all of this was his fault.

Not Aporia's…Placido's. He hated Aporia. Because of everything that occurred after that, Aporia, along with Jose and Lucciano, got away scot-free while Placido alone felt the guilt from what had happened to her. Even the part of him that was Aporia…that Aporia was the one; it was his fault she died. Now Placido had to live with the pain and guilt and despair and no one else felt any of it.

He hated everyone.

Instead of setting anything definite, they ended up going on, both agreeing that if they lived through this, they would then decide.

That time would never come, and now she was gone.

Now, he was sitting here, consumed by his hatred, anger, and despair, brewing over the fact that he was the only one in the deal who was going to be left to the dogs.

She was gone, and no amount of time travel could bring her back the way it was and have their relationship be the same as it was. Might as well face it now.

He was never going to see her again.

What was this future they were striving for anyway? He couldn't even remember exactly how the old one ended up the way it did. And why, of all things, was it a Machine Emperor that killed her? More importantly, why did he and the other members of Yliaster team up with the very things that destroyed the lives of the people most precious to them?

What if the future he saw was because of him? What if he would cause what he knew was to come?

All of a sudden, something unnatural seized him, a sensation he could barely remember. It was unnerving, tingly and strange, and he couldn't put his finger on it. What was it? It was almost painful, but it certainly wasn't pain. It almost made him seethe as strange thoughts started appearing in his head.

What would happen if Yusei could change that? It was not as if Yusei himself had the power to do this, but there was something behind it that did. What would happen?

Suddenly, his consciousness faded out again and his senses were overwhelmed a blinding light. The warm light faded slowly into the sight of her smile and the sound of her voice. Only, he wasn't holding a gun anymore, and neither was she.

And the melody of her laugh reached his ears.

_"You're staring at me again, Placido."_

* * *

><p><strong>I love Placido's character. So complex, heart-wrenching, entertaining, and tragic. Delving into it was just a little too tempting to pass up. Lord bless you guys. Praying for you.<strong>


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